


Harsh Realities and Unrealistic Dreams

by HulkWidowShipper



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awesome Laura Barton, Bruce Banner Drinks Tea, Bruce Banner Feels, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, F/M, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Natasha Romanov Needs a Hug, Natasha Romanov-centric, One Shot, POV Natasha Romanov, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Laura Barton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-12 21:22:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20571089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HulkWidowShipper/pseuds/HulkWidowShipper
Summary: Natasha finds out some devistating news and nothing in her training has prepared her to deal with it.





	Harsh Realities and Unrealistic Dreams

Natasha’s hands shook as she reached on top of the bathroom cabinet. She’d put it there for the purpose of making retrieval difficult. The temptation to stare for the entirety of the allotted two minutes was too much, so she’d put it in a hard to reach place and forced herself to sit on the bathroom floor as she waited it out.

The two minutes had gone by and she couldn’t bring herself to stand, so on the floor she’d remained for another five minutes, then another ten, and another thirty. Forty-seven minutes had passed before she’d worked up the courage to stand and reach for it.

Forty-seven minutes of her telling herself that it would all be alright. That no matter the outcome, she’d faced worse. Natasha Romanoff had fought with Gods and Super Soldiers alike. She’d brought down regimes and held off an alien invasion. Natasha Romanoff had faced challenges most only see in movies or videogames before she was even thirty and did so with poise and composure.

And yet the Natasha Romanoff that she sees before herself is not the same Natasha Romanoff that had done all those things. No, this Natasha is a foreigner looking back at her. The Natasha who did all those things would not be stood shaking in fear as she reached for the tiny item, skin pale and eyes defined by dark circles. This Natasha is not the one that broke years’ worth of KGB conditioning or tricked the trickster god, and this Natasha certainly never took down a secret Nazi organisation.

This Natasha was a different woman. One who couldn’t comprehend how she’d managed to find herself in the position she was in now- sat on the toilet staring at a tiny white stick with its two lines taunting her as she chokes back tears. This can’t be happening. Shouldn’t be happening. _Couldn’t _happen.

It didn’t make sense. The chances of this happening were non-existent and yet the small stick in her hand tells her that’s not the case. That all her life she’d lived with the belief that this was an impossibility only to suddenly find out that she’d been so terribly wrong. She’d spent years trying to come to terms with it, and for the most part, she had. And now that she has the thing that she’d been wanting for so long, she suddenly realises why she couldn’t have it, why she _can’t_ have it.

That’s the thought that bursts the dam. The final nail in the coffin that causes her to break down so completely and cry more than she’d ever done before. To realise that this thing that most people would rejoice about, that she _wished _she could rejoice about, wasn’t ever meant to be and with very good reason.

She’s not sure how much time passes before her tears finally subside, but minutes- maybe even hours -must pass before she decides that the Barton bathroom isn’t the best place to wallow in self-pity. She’s a woman of action and she needs to put everything to rights before they return home. One look at her in her current state and they’d know that something wasn’t right.

She dries her eyes on the sleeves of his sweater, the sweater she’d stolen so many years ago. The one that was faded beyond recognition and displayed decades worth of wear and tear. The one that she’d wrapped herself in at the moment the first suspicions crept into her mind. The one that now reminds her of another heart that she must break. She’s not the only one that must deal with this. That must come to terms with the fact that the impossible has occurred. That will have all their hopes and fears realised in an instant and have them immediately dashed.

_“I don't get every time what I want_._” _

Those were the words he’d said to her so many years ago and she’d tried her hardest to give him everything he wanted, everything that was in her power to give. And now she was going to be the one to take what he wanted away from him. She knew that this was something he wanted. They’d spoken about it in great depth on so many occasions where he’d told her about his deepest desires. The one thing both of them dreamed of but neither were biologically capable of having- such was their harsh reality. And now she had to be the one to tell him that yes it was possible for both of them, but it was still something that they couldn’t have. Not together at least. That thought threatens her tears to fall again. That she may lose him over this.

She can’t sit in the Barton bathroom any longer. She’s got to start moving. She exits the bathroom intending to lock herself away in the spare room only to walk straight into the path of Laura.

The older woman takes one look at the redhead, eyes darting from her face to the small stick that she has a white-knuckled grip on. “Nat?” The woman says in question, eyes wide in shock.

Natasha finds herself breaking down again as the other woman collects her in her arms. They fall in a heap to the floor, Laura rocking her back and forth as the second wave of tears pours out of her.

~*~

They both sit at the table staring at the little stick in front of them. After twenty minutes or so of Natasha crying on her shoulder, Laura had texted Clint telling him to take the kids out for dinner after school, and transported Natasha to the dining room.

Natasha had finally managed to stop crying but hadn’t said a word. What could she say? What was there left to say? The stick said it all.

“Those things aren’t conclusive you know.” Natasha’s eyes finally draw away from the stick to look at Laura. “I’ve had a false positive on a pregnancy test before. You need to make sure.” Natasha nodded slowly, knowing that the other woman was right. There was a chance that the test was wrong, but there was a greater chance that it was right. “I’m good friends with the doctor at the OB clinic in town, I’ll try and get you an appointment for tomorrow.” Laura’s arm reaches across the table, taking Natasha’s hand in her own. “It will be alright you know.”

Natasha swallows around the lump in her throat. “What am I supposed to tell Bruce?” Her question is genuine. “You know that thing that we both thought couldn’t happen. Well, surprise.” A tear rolls down her cheek and she uses the sleeve of his jumper to wipe it away.

“That’s not something you need to worry about until we find out if it’s true or not, okay.” Natasha nods again. Laura’s right about that, no point panicking about something that might not be true. “And until then we’re gonna get into bed, stick on a funny movie and drink some hot chocolate okay.”

~*~

Clint would’ve missed the stick completely if he didn’t have such a good eye for detail, though it’s not like he was called Hawkeye for the fun of it. He didn’t know whether to feel scared or relieved- three kids were already a handful but four… that’d be way more that he and Laura could handle. But then the excitement of having another kid, whether it be the first or the fiftieth, with the woman he loved- well that would never change. He’d always been elated whenever Laura told him she was pregnant.

But she hadn’t told him. In fact, she’d tried to hide it from him. Did she think he’d be mad, or upset? Surely she’d know he’d be okay with having another kid. Or maybe she didn’t want another but didn’t know how to tell him that. He may not know what was going on but he needed answers.

He pocketed the test, put the kids to bed and went on the hunt for his wife. He headed for Nat’s room, pregnancy test in hand, opening the door to find Laura and Nat curled up together watching some kind of crappy comedy movie, though neither looked like they’d been doing much laughing. If anything Natasha looked downright miserable.

“Laura,” Clint held up the little stick and Natasha instantly looked like she’d seen a ghost, eyes wide and skin pale. “are we having another kid?” Laura shook her head and Clint’s confusion only grew.

“It’s mine,” Natasha says in a small voice that was barely audible just before fresh tears began to fall from her eyes.

“Shit.” Clint instantly went to the side of his best friend. Pulling her to his chest where she latched onto the front of his shirt and proceeded to sob uncontrollably. Of all the thoughts that had crossed his mind, this possibility hadn’t even occurred to him. He tried to soothe his friend the same way he would when one of his kids started crying uncontrollably, rubbing her back and swaying her slightly whilst reaffirming that she was going to alright. God, he was so confused. He’d never thought he’d see the day that Natasha Romanoff cried, let alone the day she got pregnant. He was starting to wish the test had belonged to Laura. At least they were equipped to deal with this sort of thing. Natasha’s sobs had finally dulled down to light sniffles and he took the risk of easing up the grip that he had around her. “Do you want us to stay with you?” Natasha shook her head, though the movement was so minute that he wouldn't've realised she did if he hadn't been able to feel her head shake against his chest. Clint gently tilted her chin up to look at him. Her eyes were bloodshot and her cheeks were puffy. “Are you just saying that because you're trying to be strong?” Natasha swallowed and nodded her head and the similarities in how much she looks like Lila at this moment remind him just how young his friend really is. “Okay.” Clint settles down, hugging the redhead to his chest again, Laura flanked on her other side as they both try to comfort her. God this was so fucked up.

~*~

Natasha was silent for the duration of the drive to the doctor’s office, and the duration of the wait in the waiting room, her mind ticking away with the possible outcomes of what might happen. Best case scenario this was all one big mistake and the test was wrong. She could go home and crawl into Bruce’s arms, never having to tell him of the events that took place during this trip. Worst case scenario… well, she didn’t even want to think of the worst-case scenario right now. Those thoughts are what caused her to break down in tears yesterday and all through the night. She’d be very glad to be able to put thoughts of the worst-case scenario behind her.

Laura had elected to take the day off work to drive her to the appointment and stay with her afterwards. Which Natasha was feeling unbelievably grateful for, there were many things that she was capable of doing by herself but this was not one of them.

Nothing in her training or life experience had prepared her for lying back on a doctors table whilst a chirpy OBGYN waves a wand over her stomach to get an ultrasonic image of her uterus. It certainly never prepared her for hearing the heartbeat or seeing the blurry image on the screen, and it most definitely never prepared her for how to cope with a doctor telling her that she was already 7 weeks pregnant. Which would explain why her first response was to release a choked sob and to tighten her grip on Laura’s hand.

She remembers exactly when it happened as well, which is a shame because it’s one of her fondest memories with Bruce. They’d been having the condom debate for a while; neither needing to take precautions to prevent pregnancy- _oh how wrong they’d both been_\- but Bruce still holding on to that last bit of fear that he was dangerous to her. She’d been determined to prove to him that he wasn’t a danger to her in any form or during any of their activities. To finally break through that one last barrier of doubt he was holding on to.

She’d joined him in the shower that evening, knowing very well he wouldn’t be able to resist and that they were out of prophylactics. He’d managed to put aside all his fears and doubts and buried himself deep inside her. He’d sobbed on her shoulder as he came, as she’d stroked his hair and enjoyed the afterglow. He still wasn’t completely open to ditching condoms entirely, but it had been a step forward. But now it seemed to be two steps back.

“How’s this possible?” Laura asks the question that had been on everyone’s mind since she’d seen the results from the test. She looks over to Natasha, presumably to ask permission to divulge more. Natasha nods her assent. “Natasha was sterilised when she we was…” she rolls her tongue around looking for the right words, nothing to make the situation more awkward like talk of the forced sterilisation of children. “at a young age.”

The doctor looks at them with a confused expression and then looks towards Natasha’s bared stomach. “I don’t see any signs of sterilisation.” She looks back at her screen. “Do you remember what kind of procedure you underwent?”

Natasha shakes her head and Laura fills in the bit of information that they’ve been darting around. “It wasn’t voluntary.”

The doctor nods solemnly, does well to conceal her shock. “Well my equipment limits me somewhat, but from what I can see, you haven’t got any scarring that would be evidence of tubal ligation, and you’ve evidently still got your uterus.” The doctor sighs deeply, runs her hands through her hair as she considers the possibilities. “It’s possible that they may have used a non-surgical procedure but the chances of failure are virtually non-existent.”

It’s also possible that this was just another lie she’d been brainwashed to believe. It’s more than possible that the red room had lied and given her false memories of the supposed graduation ceremony; it wouldn’t’ve been the first time. She’d questioned everything the red room had told her, everything but that. She’d assumed they were telling the truth on that and didn’t dare to try and find out otherwise. Maybe she should’ve.

She’s had enough, and frankly lying on the table being poked and prodded was making this all feel too real. They make an abrupt exit, Natasha passing up the doctors offer of printed photos, Laura may have taken a few but she couldn’t bear to look at the image any longer.

“I can’t have a kid, Laura.” She says once they pull up outside the farmhouse. “What kind of life could I give a child?”

“A great one,” Laura says matter-of-factly. “But you still have options.”

“I’d be a terrible mother.”

“You’d be a great mother.” Laura lightly nudges her cheek and forces Natasha to look at her. “And I’m not just saying that either. I’ve seen you with my kids, I know full well you’d be an amazing mother.” Natasha attempts to give a rebuttal but Laura stops any objection that she tries to give. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but don’t let _that _be your reason why.”

Laura wouldn’t understand, is incapable of understanding. Laura has known love all her life, so giving it to her children was easy. Natasha’s still discovering what love truly is, she’s only recently been able to give it to Bruce and that doesn’t feel like it’s enough sometimes. There’s no way she’d be capable of giving a child the love that it needs. But how do you verbalise that? How do you make someone understand that you have to choose not to have something you want because you know you won’t be able to give it what it deserves?

~*~

Telling Bruce was the biggest issue she was having. Which is why she’d elected not to for as long as possible. But that time had been drawn to a sudden end when her subconscious betrayed her and caused her to seek him out.

It hadn’t been a nightmare, those she could handle. No this had been far worse. This was a happy dream, the kind of dream that makes you begrudge ever having to wake again. The kind that you wish went on longer and you try to cling onto hours after being awake. One where she and Bruce could have all that they wanted and that included a redhaired little girl with wild curls running into their arms as they laughed and played together. Where the three of them formed a little family and were content with the world.

She’d woken up crying. Trying so hard to get back to that dream, wishing that it could be but knowing that it never could. That it was never something the two of them could have. Or at least not something s_he_ could have.

She finds him in the kitchen, fixing himself a cup of tea as per his usual night-time routine, unaware of how she was about to completely shatter his reality.

She clears her throat, alerting him to her presence and his face brightens as his eyes land on her. “Hey, when did you get back?” He begins to step towards her, but something makes him stop in his tracks. “Have you been crying?”

“2 days ago.” The thought of returning to their shared apartment, knowing what she needed to tell him, was too much. So she’d elected to stay in one of the spare rooms until she could find the courage to tell him. She’s still wrapped in his jumper, because even if she didn’t have the guts to see him she still wanted comfort, and he’d become synonymous with comfort for her. “I have something to tell you.”

She nods towards the dining table and sits in one of the chairs opposite him. He holds up an empty mug, an offering of tea to which she declines.

“Is everything okay?”

“Have you ever wanted something so much for so long but couldn’t have it.” Bruce nods along because of course, he has, his experience in that department is almost as long as her own. “And then you do get it, but instead of feeling happy about it you start to realise why you couldn’t have it in the first place. And then you realise that you have to give it back.”

“Oddly specific, but yeah.” Bruce huffs out a little laugh, though it's not at all humorous. “I really do actually.”

“Good. Because I have an appointment tomorrow afternoon.” Bruce nods expectantly and she has to swallow around the lump forming in her throat. “At the clinic.” His brow furrows a little in confusion. “At the abortion clinic.” Her voice cracks as the tears begin to trickle down again. “I’m pregnant.” A range of emotions play across Bruce’s face in a split second; confusion, joy, excitement, pain, sadness. “I know this is something you want but…” Her choked sobs prevent the rest of her words from coming out.

“Come ‘ere.” Bruce rounds the table and draws her into his arms, the place that she’d been dying to be in ever since she found out. “It’s gonna be okay.” She manages to get out a strangled apology of some kind. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.”

She remains in his arms for a while, burying her head in his chest as she cries and Bruce consoles her. Her tears eventually subside and she finally forces herself to look at Bruce. His eyes are a little bloodshot, evidently trying to hold back his own tears and she really does hate that she’s done this to him.

“You don’t have to come.”

“Of course I’m gonna be there Nat.” He says as he draws her back to his chest. “You don’t have to go through any of this alone.” He places a kiss in her hair. “I just wish you’d told me sooner.”

If only she could turn back time. She would’ve told him as soon as the first suspicions crept into her mind had she known he would be this supportive- though she wonders why she ever doubted that he would be anything but. Because as much as Clint and Laura had tried to tell her it would be alright, she hadn’t believed it until now. Not until he told her so.

~*~

Bruce held her hand the entire way to the clinic, as they walked past the pro-life protestors, as they sat in the waiting room, and even as they led her through to the back room. He’d looked almost ready to fight someone as they told him he couldn’t go any further and that’d only served to make her love for him swell even more.

She knew that he really wanted this, they’d mused about it last night once he’d finally coaxed her to bed- the possibility of a family had they been different people, the white picket fence and tire swing and the 2.5 kids. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t want that with him, if she said she didn’t want to be the one to give that to him.

Yet despite his desire, he’d heard her reasoning, accepted her choice and supported her the whole way through. Set his own wants aside and respected the decisions of those around him, as he’d been doing all his life.

God, was she really going to be another person to take away something that he wanted all because of her own insecurities and fears of her own incompetence? She couldn’t.

She wouldn’t.

She finds Bruce sat back in the waiting room; nose buried in an academic journal though he spots her as soon as she re-enters the room.

“Is it over already.” She shakes her head. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t.”

“D’you want me to come through with you?”

She shakes her head again, doesn’t bother to comment on the fact that he couldn’t go through with her even if he wanted to. “I… I can’t go through with it.” Doesn’t want to would be a more appropriate way to phrase it. “I’ve got enough innocent blood on my hands. I don’t want to add more.”

“Those protestors are just wackos, it’s not murder Nat. You have a right to choose.”

“And I think I’m choosing to do this. To keep it.” His face switches from concern to cautious joy. As though he can see the carrot being dangled in front of him but is too afraid to reach out in case it’s snatched away. “With you. If that’s what you want.” He nods tentatively and she mimics his movement. “I can't say that I'll be any good at it… but I think I’m willing to give this a try.” Because she may not know how to properly love a child but she’s pretty sure Bruce does, and she’d been learning how to love from Bruce for a while now so what difference would it make to add another facet?

She may not be able to give him the normal life, the white picket fence and the 2.5 kids, but she could give him this, _wants_ to give him this. Their lives had been filled with harsh realities, maybe it was time for them to live just one of their unrealistic dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I don't even know where this came from. It just sort of popped into my head and I thought "might as well write that down."
> 
> Feel like I need to add (seen as we tackle a pretty heavy topic in this one) that all choices made by a pregnant person are valid, whether it be to keep or terminate. Just trying to show that for some women it may not be as straight forward as knowing exactly what they want to do and that there's a journey that some must go through to finally make their decision. But ultimately all choices are valid.


End file.
